Posts filed under ‘kowloon’

Ah, tofu. So versatile. Humble tofu, you take on the flavours of your neighbours with much gusto and much skill, making you the perfect ingredient for a damn good dish. You’re perfect stuffed with fish paste and fried, steamed with prawns and a smattering of fried garlic and spring onions, and miso soup would be lonely without your presence. Pockmarked Aunty Ma would have been a nobody without you. And yet you excel not only in your savoury incarnations, but in sweet delights.

Behold: the Tofu Fa (豆腐花). Silken tofu in a clear sweet soup.

A bit of exploring around the streets of Sham Shui Po today led us to this famed little shop specialising in tofu. Kung Wo Soybean Factory is one of the oldest companies in Hong Kong, having been established over a 100 years ago – in 1893, on Canton Road in Mong Kok. They’ve gotta be doing something right. And I shall testify for that – the 豆腐花 I had was seriously the best I’ve ever had – impossibly silky, melt in your mouth goodness. Smooth and fresh, with no hint of the bitterness that some tofu desserts still retain despite the copious amounts of sugar some vendors add to the soup. The clear soup was not too sweet, but sweet enough so that I, a promising future diabetic, didn’t need to help myself to spoonfuls of the yellow sugar laid out on the table in tubs. Perfectly warmed, though a cold version would have been excellent on a hot summer’s day. And at only $6HKD a pop, who can complain? Such a small price to pay for such deliciousness. Are you getting the hint yet, London?

Charming little place, but again – eat and go – grab a bag of the fried tofu ‘lumps’, or several blocks of fresh, silky tofu for dinner. The possibilities are endless. Apparently they do a mean soy bean milk as well, and their freshly pan-fried tofu with fish paste (diligently made to order) is to die for. There is a limit to how much tofu one can have in a day, though…

The Australia Dairy Company is a must-go destination for any discerning foodie in Hong Kong, and thus forever has throngs of people winding outside its doors, anxious to get in and enjoy their famed scrambled eggs and steamed milk puddings. And dear god, do the waiters work fast to get everyone in and out as quickly as possible! If you think Wong Kei (in London) is bad, ADC can be positively frightening. With that said, they’re not rude per se, just super efficient and if you just so happen to get in their way for a second too long, heads will roll.

This picture doesn’t show how hectic and crowded it was at all.

The whole shebang is an adventure in itself. You can just feel their adrenaline, and the noise from the shouting and the constant flow of people in the cramped aisles just adds to the chaos. It’s pretty much a guilt-trip if you end up taking way too long eating your grub, so don’t come here with visions of long, relaxing munching and slow sips of tea. It’s eat-and-go, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t think this is possibly one of the best meals to have in the city.

Mmmm. Eggy innards.

Look at the menu and there’s actually quite a lot of different foods – noodles, various sandwiches and drinks. But aficionados and long-time customers go for ADC’s most famous dish – scrambled eggs. Served alongside pieces of toast for breakfast, and in between slices of pillow-soft bread in the afternoon, this humble food has somehow managed to impress the picky Hong Kong public. There’s even a Facebook group dedicated to declaring undying love for their scrambled eggs, which currently has 5,661 5,688 members (including yours truly).

Scrambled eggs are probably the simplest thing you could ever make, but it truly takes skill to transform something any old Joe could make, blindfolded, into something so wonderfully tasty that makes people want to come back for more. ADC’s scrambled eggs are the lightest, fluffiest eggs I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating, and they are oh-so-moist. Not too salty, perfectly seasoned and the thick, soft white bread it’s served in creates a match made in heaven. How can I live with paltry, rubbery scrambled eggs again? Poetry should be written about their eggs. Really.